


Five Times Bill Tanner Wished He Was James Bond And One Time He Didn't.

by flyingmousetrap



Category: James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: I will fix this later, M/M, This was supposed to be funny but turned into some kind of shitty character study of Tanner, and kind of makes him look like a douche?, gift for Frostirons because reasons, it's not MEANT to, the 'Q is judging you' verse, this is going to be a verse btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 04:55:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/618321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingmousetrap/pseuds/flyingmousetrap
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bill Tanner tries not to be insecure, but when you're dating England's most eligible young genius, and James Bond parades around in his unabashed perfection, sometimes it's a little difficult. (spoilers for Skyfall)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Bill Tanner Wished He Was James Bond And One Time He Didn't.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elvarya85](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elvarya85/gifts).



> So this was meant to be a little Christmas gift for Frostirons, but I suppose a new years gift is acceptable (here's hoping)
> 
> Yeah, this is a ship that she converted me to - no seriously, the entire blame is on her it never even occurred to me I was so busy shipping the hell out of 00Q - and I wanted to write a little something for it, which was this, but now I want to write several little somethings for it - like the scenes here from Q's point of view just for starters.
> 
> Yeah so basically this wasn't even meant to be serious but now it is and this ship is here to stay in my armada.

Cars.

Tanner appreciated cars.  
Not in a mad, obsessive, collector’s kind of way – but in the way that most blokes do; the checklist of fast/sexy/expensive/loud/featured on Top Gear and Jeremy Clarkson approved – the usual. Enough to know what you want and what you don’t want, basically.  
Tanner’s car is a gunmetal grey ford focus that the service provided exactly because it wasn’t what you’d want – it was everything dull and wrong with his life summed up in four wheels and two windscreen wipers.  
Q tended to say he was being dramatic whenever Bill tried to complain about his car, but Tanner was prone to ignore his partner when the very next day the Quartermaster would be handing Bond the keys to a brand new Bentley that went faster than science dictated should be possible and would apparently work underwater up to 300 feet.  
Not to mention that Bond had a private collection of cars that would make James May curl up in a ball and cry - to this day Tanner swears that Bond only ever drives to work so he could park his Morgan Plus 8 outside and force an intern to mind it whilst the eyes of near enough every passer-by was fixated on its shiny hubcaps.  
Tanner didn’t even know what was so special about the damn thing but by God he knew he wanted to be Bond every single time the smug bastard drove it away.

Holidays.

Tanner is the Head of Personnel. He organises the personnel. He is _in charge_ of the personnel. When he says jump, they jump.  
But he is fair with them, always fair, _kind_ really – particularly when it comes to holidays. Tanner appreciates that what they do is not only hard, but if you’re not careful, it can be all encompassing – and sometimes you just need a break, so he is always careful to dish out leave as much as the agents in his care require; he’s a good boss like that.  
Tanner’s boss, however, is M – and M really couldn’t care less about Tanner’s mental health; so long as he’s still functioning enough to type, he’s lively enough to be working his usual 14 hours.  
Q pulls even longer hours really, so Bill never lets himself complain too much, and really it’s not the hours that get to him – it’s the lack of holidays.

‘So I’m legally required to grant you some leave this month’ Tanner blinks as M drawls out this little gem, not looking up from the file he’d just been handed, ‘I got a note from Q branch on the subject – do I need to issue a statement about keeps personal relationships out of personnel issues?’ the tone is cold, but there is an unavoidable glint of amusement in M’s eye as he rolls out that awful pun.  
‘No, sir.’ Tanner replies stiffly, and M smiles; straight teeth gleaming as he produces a piece of paper confirming two weeks leave, Tanner tries not to grab at it like a child.  
‘Very well then,’ M hands it over, and makes one of his ridiculous shooing motions to inform Tanner he can leave. He’s almost out of the door, freedom in hand, when that still smooth voice adds; ‘And before you go switching around schedules, the Quartermaster is needed on site daily this month – that time of year you know.’

Tanner knows that M doesn’t actually hate him, and Q really is needed on site right now, but that doesn’t change the fact that the only tan he’ll be picking up now is an irradiated glow from the screens down in Q branch, where of course he will find himself sitting every day; initially just to keep Q company but he knows he’ll be catching up on paperwork before the week is out – holidays do not happen to Bill Tanner.  
Four days in, whilst he’s sitting filing new mug-shots and watching Q bicker with 007 over the phone whilst spying on him via satellite, he can’t help but focus on the beach where Bond is sprawled out as he ignores Q’s request to report back straight away – it looks warm and inviting, and Q branch is as ridiculously chilly as ever.  
Tanner wasn’t even sure what _country_ Bond was in right now, but he wished it was him there.

Sex.

Tanner was in a perfectly nice relationship thank you very much.  
To this day he really wasn’t quite sure how it had happened, what twist in fate had brought their new Quartermaster, their new, horrifyingly young, indecently pretty, and unnervingly intelligent Quartermaster into his life as not just a colleague but a lover, but it had happened – and Tanner knew better than to complain.  
So really when it came down to comparing sexual exploits between himself and Bond, it wasn’t even really the sex – Tanner was well covered in that department right now – it was the God damned _flirting_.  
Bond seemed to think that his presence was a gift from the heavens that he was duty bound to share with any breathing creature he came into contact with, and the infuriating thing was, this was pretty much the case. It took a lot of different skills to be a double0, and after the killing, running, and ability to pilot any vehicle imaginable, charm really was rather important. And because they had to be able to woo anyone, anywhere, anytime they were notorious for cranking it up on _everyone_ , _everywhere_ , _all of the time_ \- until the objects of their affection were a pile of quivering goop in their hands.  
And in all honesty, Bond wasn’t even the worst -004 currently held the record on official liaisons, and nobody really wanted to guess about the number of _unnoficial_ ones she had under her belt - but it was Bond who spent a good portion of his downtime either leaning against Eve’s desk whenever Tanner wanted to talk to her, or actually bloody _sprawled_ over lab equipment in Q Branch, particularly when Tanner was there to watch him make eyes at a Quartermaster who always seemed far too keen to _flirt back_.

‘You know he’s only playing’ Q said one day, not thirty seconds after Bond had sauntered out, ‘he thinks of it more as practice then anything’ a thoughtful pause, ‘except with Eve, then I think it’s more of a game they play with each other.’ Tanner didn’t bother pretending that he didn’t know what his lover was talking about.  
‘I don’t have to like it.’ He muttered, ‘How you two make eyes at each other whenever he enters the room.’ a very faint smile breezed over Q’s face as he used a slender finger to push is glasses a bit further up his nose.  
‘You don’t need to be jealous of Bond, Bill.’ He said lightly, turning away from his main monitor to regard Tanner fondly, ‘besides, maybe I want to practise my flirting technique too – I have to make sure I’m on top of my game after all.’ The younger man was smiling now, but Tanner couldn’t help the scowl that quickly settled on his face. He muttered something about getting a coffee and stalked out of the room, pointedly ignoring the coffee machine right by the door that Q had installed especially for him.

It was childish, he knew, but when Bond could; with a couple of words and a smile, pull Q out the deepest realms of thought and produce a goddam _giggle_ , of course Tanner would wish it was him. 

Respect.

Tanner wasn’t necessarily unappreciated at Control – he did a good job and people knew he did a good job and would say so when appropriate - but sometimes he felt as though he wasn’t particularly respected. And sometimes he felt himself wondering why, was being good at his job – not an easy job either – not enough? Was he too quiet, too subservient? Should he make more of a stand when his colleagues, his superiors, were working against what he thought was right?  
Bond never paid any attention to anyone but himself, made his own plans, sometimes picked his own _targets_ out on missions – in certain ways MI6’s perfect agent was near enough the best example of what the very worst kind of agent was, and yet Bond could walk into a room and the ensuing hush of awe would approach deafening.

‘Bond’s called in.’ Mallory - not M yet, just Mallory - had said, not entering Q Branch; just sticking his head through the door. Q had quickly turned to face him a smile working its way across his tired face, mirroring the one across Tanner’s – they’d been waiting for the call all night.  
‘Did he get him?’ The fatigue in Q’s voice had given way to nervous excitement, but Tanner was longer at this game, and knew the look on Mallory’s face.  
‘Who did we lose?’ he asked quietly, and the other man turned away from the door, as if the corridor held the answers to all of life’s problems.  
‘M.’ came the monosyllabic reply, and then he walked away.  
Tanner and Q were the ones who debriefed Bond, or in all honesty, just sat and watched him silently, as he recounted what would later be known as the Skyfall incident in a toneless monologue. Q took notes, typing so quietly it barely registered, and Tanner just nodded whenever he felt it was appropriate – or _knew_ it was appropriate, all he really felt was the slow creeping numbness that had followed Mallory’s news giving way to something like betrayal, this wasn’t what Bond had promised, this wasn’t what Bond DID. Tanner respected Bond, they all respected Bond, he was the perfect agent even as he was the worst – the ridiculous pinnacle that they could all admire, if not strive to achieve; but now he had failed, and Tanner felt something die in that moment; the dream of 007 dying alongside the woman who had been his greatest ally. Tanner saw him as just another agent then, and he could never quite shake it. And yet Bond was still the most respected Agent in the service. 

On his darkest days, Tanner would look at Bond – the hero, the previous M’s last great defender, and the jealousy would curdle and turn into something ugly.  
Tanner doesn’t often have days like that, but when he does he wishes things that he isn’t proud of.

Looks.

Tanner is not a bad looking bloke.  
He knows this, and is comfortable in his skin; in the way he presents himself – he looks good in the suit that his line of work demands, and just as well in the shirts and jeans he allowed himself at home.  
But the problem with working with Bond (or dating the Quartermaster in all honesty) is that you spend a lot of time standing next to indecently attractive people, and it’s just not going to do that much for your self-esteem.  
Not to mention Bond can look good no matter the circumstances – Tanner has seen him with a black eye, split lip, half his ear hanging off, and enough bandages to actually _clothe_ a person and the man still looked like he just walked off the pages of GQ magazine.  
Bond knew it, and so did everyone else – tales of Bond’s beauty proceeded him; even when he wasn’t there to be preceded; Q’s first week on the job, Bond firmly legally dead, and he’d already been quizzing Tanner about the mysterious 007 and his killer looks, the whole time with the most ridiculous grin on his face.

‘So I hear tell of this 007 quite regularly.’ He enquired mildly, Tanner looked over at the new Quartermaster and tried to keep his face neutral – he didn’t really want to talk about dead agents when he was just supposed to be dropping off paperwork.  
‘You would.’ Tanner said carefully, ‘he was quite the character.’  
‘Hmm’ Q mused, pulling out a file and making it perfectly obvious exactly who it was on, ‘seems he was rather the bane of the previous Quartermaster’s life.’ Tanner let out a chuckle at that, as the younger man leafed through the personnel folder that he really shouldn’t have been able to get access for.  
‘He was that, and the one before.’ Q let out an appreciative whistle,  
‘An invisible Aston Martin? Really?’ Tanner rolled his eyes fondly,  
‘Only the best for Bond.’ A large black and white photo slid out of the file next, a young agent, not yet a double0; late twenties – still in naval uniform. Tanner tried to ignore the way Q’s eyes studied the picture.  
‘They really weren’t kidding were they?’ he murmured, and Tanner tried to think about how different that picture was from the current Bond; tired, hair just two shades from greying, and enough scars to make a surgeon wince, but when the photo was right there he couldn’t help but drink it in himself.  
‘No,’ he acknowledged, ‘they really weren’t.’  
If they hadn’t practically already been dating when Bond had come back, Bill would have felt even more possessive of the young genius, if that were possible. As it was, he generally just joined in with the rest of the simpering masses – and really, who could blame him.

And even Tanner knew that not even Bond _really_ looked like _Bond _these days, but sometimes a little jealousy is just unavoidable.__

__ Wounded In Action. _ _

__Tanner tries his best to not wake up in hospital beds, but sometimes these things happen.  
The problem with having an M whose identity is widely known is that assassinations go from the odd major incident, to a bi-weekly occurrence. And this time Bill is the only one there to take the bullet.  
As the adrenaline wears off and the blood loss takes hold, he’s reassured to see that his last shot hit its mark; their assailant is down for good, and Mallory should still be underneath the desk where Tanner had none too gently shoved him after everything went to pot – all in all, not bad for the head of personnel. He allows himself a flush of pride before he hits the ground and everything goes black. 

__‘No I’m not coming back into the branch today.’ The voice that filtered through the haze in Tanner’s brain was clipped, and definitely not compromising, ‘Don’t try and pretend you need me there; one of the _interns_ could crack a code of that level, and not even one of my interns – you could borrow one from the _armoury_ ’ there were very few people in Tanner’s circle of acquaintance that could muster up that much distaste for weaponry.  
‘Q?’ His voice sounded so weak he regretted it instantly, but sure enough there was a quickly snapped goodbye and the sound of a phone being put down before a hand very hesitantly poked at his. Not holding – poking.  
‘Are you back with me?’ all of the annoyance of the phone call was gone; hesitant now – the kind of worry that seeped into his voice when operations were going wrong in ways that can’t be fixed with computers. Tanner forced his eyes open before starting into a fit of blinking; he hadn’t actually thought Q was THAT close to his face.  
‘I’m fine,’ he paused, watching Q’s face contort into a frown that he wanted to see gone as soon as possible, ‘well I was shot,’ he smiled as he said it, joking ‘but I’m not dead so we’ll call that a plus.’  
The frown stayed on in full force as Q leaned back before passing him a glass of water from the bedside table; Tanner started to drink it whilst suffering from one of the Quartermaster’s studying looks.  
‘You were shot in the shoulder, it missed pretty much everything you would want a bullet to miss, and M did his best to stop the bleeding, but you were still pretty far gone by the time help got to you.’ Tanner frowned.  
‘Why?’ he grumbled, ‘how long can it take to get medics to Kensington?’ Q sniffed.  
‘Your attackers had a helicopter above the building – we had difficulty approaching.’ Tanner blinked.  
‘How did you get past it?’  
‘Bond blew it up with a Mini Cooper utilising a quite frankly ridiculous piece of driving,’ Q’s eye roll was so comically exaggerated Tanner committed it to memory then and there, ‘and he ended up with five broken ribs and a lost toe for his trouble,’ an extremely put upon sigh, ‘he’s in the room next-door. Eve was keeping him company but Mallory ordered her back – I think without you there he gets lonely.’ Tanner tried not to laugh.  
‘Mallory couldn’t care less about me.’  
‘Au contraire, I think he wants to give you a medal.’  
‘I’d prefer a week off.’  
‘A week off _together_.’  
‘That’s the one.’ Tanner smiled, and finished his water, Q reached out and took it, their fingers grazing in a ridiculously obvious gesture. Tanner looked at him seriously.  
‘Have you been here the whole time I was out?’ Q shrugged.  
‘They have perfectly good Wi-Fi; there was no reason for me to go elsewhere.’ He looks down at the tablet in his lap as if to illustrate the point, ‘I managed to track the group that targeted Mallory - 005 went in yesterday.’ Tanner raised an eyebrow.  
‘Shouldn’t you be supervising?’ Q glanced up sharply,  
‘I’m supervising YOU.’ He said shortly, and Tanner smiled,  
‘I’ve been sleeping.’ Q sniffed, but a small grin wormed its way across his face,  
‘I like watching you sleep.’ He said, shifting out of his chair and leaning across the bed; sprawling his upper body across Tanner’s torso, ‘It’s quite high up on my priorities. Right above saving the world and making sure Bond doesn’t start world war three by sleeping with the wrong people.’ Tanner tried not to ruin this moment with his lover such a delightfully warm presence on his chest, but couldn’t help his reply of;  
‘Shouldn’t you be keeping an eye on him now?’ Q didn’t move, but even whilst doing his best impersonation of a cuddly octopus on Bill’s chest he still managed to produce the most chilling glare.  
‘I am exactly where I am supposed to be, idiot.’ Tanner swallowed.  
‘Sorry.’ He murmured, and got a repeat of the One True Eye Roll.  
‘I am going to make you pay for that when you’re not bed-ridden.’ Came a low mutter, as Q swung his legs onto the bed along with the rest of him, and snuggled flush against Bill’s side. 

More often than you’d think, considering how he could mope, Tanner didn’t wish he was anyone other than himself– and he had the good grace to lie back and enjoy it. 


End file.
